Unfolding
by Jacinda
Summary: Post Weeping Willows: Grissom used to say that the people were what made this lab so great. I wonder if he saw the metamorphosis that was bringing out the worst in all the people in this lab. (NS friendship)FIN
1. Unfolding

A/N: This is my little vindictive response to Weeping Willows. I am so sick how Catherine is being written as constantly having her 'sexual misadventures' get her into trouble, but she never really learns a lesson from it. I'm even more sick of Grissom always being her white knight - I'm starting to hate that character so much that I would love to see her get her butt kicked for being so sexually aggressive and willing ot give it out like no other. Sorry for the long rant, but I'ma little ticked off that I wasted an hour watching Weeping Willows when I could have done something else. (Sorry to anyone that likes Catherine). Here's my social commentary on the current plot lines and how the characters are being written. -Jac

I might consider continuing this story if people like it.

* * *

"Okay, so I call her a bitch, and I get suspended. But Catherine threatens to shoot an innocent man, and nothing what so ever happens to her?" Sara asked suspiciously as she finished sorting through the evidence her and Greg brought back to the lab.

"That's kind of the way things have always gone around here," Warrick commented. I was surprised that he wasn't in the least bit upset. I heard him and Catherine fighting about two weeks ago. I knew that she had played the supervisor card one too many times outside of work and the lab. I gave Warrick credit for not lashing out vindictively as Sara and Greg had.

"So the moral of the story is as long as the guy hits on me and I use my feminine wiles, just about anything goes," Sara clarified. She angrily placed her evidence out on the layout table.

"If it's your father, you get an even bigger free pass," Greg sardonically joked, "Oh, blowing up the lab and injuring people only gets you a slap on the wrist."

"I guess I lose out on that front. My father's been dead since I was eleven years old," Sara replied.

"Well, then use sex as your 'get out of jail free' card," Greg replied. I just shook my head. I was determined not be get in on the banter that was quickly getting out of control. Greg and Sara had made it very clear that they would no longer take direction from Catherine. Sara could walk past Catherine without batting an eyelash. Greg avoided her altogether. On days like these, Sara and Greg obviously showed Grissom a little less respect for constantly trying to undo the messes that Catherine had managed to get herself into. I had even heard rumors that Sophia had started 'seeing' the new day shift fingerprint tech because she was sick of competing with Catherine for his undivided attention.

I stood in the middle of this mess that was rapidly unfolding into nothing short of chaos. Catherine had always been good to me. She was always kind and sensitive to the fact that I was indeed the most sensitive person to ever work in this lab. She went easy on me when I screwed up in court or on a case. She was nothing less than motherly to me. I knew that her sensitivity and caring were strictly limited to me and Grissom. Part of me could understand why Greg, Sara, and Warrick were sick of Catherine always needing to be saved from herself, while other people were left to suffer. Sara was a prime example of what neglect and disrespect could do to a person in this job. Catherine always made Sara feel like she was never fast enough, right enough, or good enough. Grissom didn't do anything to diffuse the animosity of the relationship. If anything, Grissom's tendency to be Catherine's white knight fueled the flames.

"So are you guys going out to breakfast with Catherine? I hear she throws a nice pity party," Sara asked. I was thinking about accepting Catherine's invitation only because she looked truly upset that her intuition was a little bit off these last few days. I knew Grissom was guaranteed to be there.

"Girl, I've got someone waiting on me," Warrick replied as if it was ludicrous that he would spend time with Catherine outside the lab.

"So Catherine is okay with this thing that you and Mia have?" Greg asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Does it matter? Catherine can only control things at scenes and in the lab. Everything else is outside of her jurisdiction," Warrick replied.

"Mia is beautiful and smart. Don't you dare screw this one up," Sara cautioned Warrick. I was surprised to see how Greg, Sara, and Warrick had managed to bond in the light of a common enemy. That was the most loyalty that this lab had seen in years. It didn't surprise me, but it didn't make me happy either. I wondered if Grissom even realized what was happening right under his nose.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Warrick quipped sarcastically. He never used to be sarcastic like that; Warrick had always been sarcastic in more of a good natured, joking sort of way. I kind of missed that Warrick.

"Sara, want to go bang me so you can do no wrong for the next few weeks?" Greg asked. The old Sara would have looked up and cracked Greg over the head with the nearest hard object, but this new woman looked at him as if she might actually be considering his rude and vulgar proposition.

"You get to talk to Sara like that?" I asked before the proofreader in my brain could tell my mouth to just stay closed.

"It's more respect than I get from Grissom, Catherine, and Ecklie. It's really not hurting anyone, is it?" Sara asked me. I wondered when things had begun to spiral out of control. Grissom used to say that the people were what made this lab so great. I wonder if he saw the metamorphosis that was bringing out the worst in all the people in this lab.

"I'm just kidding, Nick. Don't go all 'Catherine' on me," Greg said in a cynical voice that sent shivers down my spine.

"You guys used to be her friend," I said as I stood up.

"Nick, Catherine isn't anyone's friend. She just uses people until she's done with them. Just wait until she does it to you," Warrick called after me as I walked as far away from them as possible. I ended up walking straight into Catherine.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked her before that damn proofreader in my brain could do his job.

"What's bothering you, Nicky?" she asked as I followed her into her office.

"Do you ever feel like the people around here are changing?" I asked as I sat down.

"Nick, what did Sara say or do this time?" Catherine said as she obviously rolled her eyes.

"No, it's not that. Do you ever feel like this lab isn't special anymore . . . like there isn't a team atmosphere anymore?" I asked again. I began to wonder if I was indeed making a big mistake. Judging from Catherine's willingness to lock horns with Sara, I wondered if Warrick was right.

"Grissom doesn't know how to manage a shift. He doesn't discipline people until it's too late. This 'change' is a good thing. Like anything else, it's going to take a while for things to settle into place," Catherine said as she checked her voice mail messages.

"What about the lack of respect around here?" I asked.

"If Grissom controlled his people better, there wouldn't be a problem," Catherine snipped, "I have work to do, Nick. I'm sure you have some paperwork to turn in."

I left her office wondering when I began to not look forward to going to work anymore. I watched Greg, Sara, and Warrick laugh as they sorted through evidence. I watched Sophia and Grissom argue over something. What was once peaceful had turned into nothing short of a war zone. That was precisely the reason I left Texas. My mother constantly fought with my sisters. My father and my older brother were constantly at each other's throats. I was left standing among the wreckage of what used to be a close family.

I wondered if it was time for me to leave this family.


	2. Competing

"Nick, where the hell is Sara?" Catherine half yelled and half asked as she burst into the layout room. Her face was shockingly red; her eyes narrowed.

"Is everything okay?" I stupidly asked as I sat up from my hunched over position.

"She processed my auto from my crime scene," Catherine replied in the same frantically angry voice.

"Didn't she tell you that your DB is associated with her DB? I heard Grissom telling her to go over that car with a fine tooth comb," I replied.

"They don't tell me a damn thing. Grissom just lets Sara walk all over me," Catherine hissed as she turned and walked out the door. She obviously heard about a quarter of what I said to her.

I'm sure that Catherine would find Sara and another yelling match would erupt in the middle of the crime lab. Catherine would accuse Sara of being a rouge CSI with an agenda all her own. Sara would tell her that Grissom calls the shots. Catherine would accuse Sara of having Grissom wrapped around her finger. Sara had gotten wise about walking away. She had also gotten a little devious; Sara would always walk towards Ecklie's office. More than once, Ecklie would come out of his office to tell Catherine to back off.

Like clockwork, the yelling began. All I could hear was Catherine going off on Sara about hijacking cases from her. Catherine talked to Sara as if Sara wasn't in the slightest bit qualified to work on evidence. She neglected to remember that Sara had just begun the doctorate program at UNLV. Catherine probably neglected that fact on purpose. I had a hard to ever imagining Catherine calling Sara 'Dr. Sidle.'

The yelling ended with the sound of skin on skin contact that echoed through the hallway. I stood up to see what the hell had happened this time. I wondered if Sara's contentious objections had earned her a slap from Catherine. I wondered if Sara finally got sick of Catherine belittling her and fought back.

I was surprised to see Grissom tenderly rubbing his hand over his cheek. Both Grissom and Sara stood looking at Catherine with a completely shocked expression on their faces. Sara pried Grissom's hand away from his cheek long enough to reveal an intense red against his normally tan skin. Grissom promptly pushed Sara away a little harder than he normally would.

Catherine stalked off in the direction of Ecklie's office. Sara wasn't all that far behind. Warrick and Archie poked their heads out of the AV lab. They had obviously gotten front row seats to whatever it was that transpired.

"What's going on?" I asked as I walked into the lab.

"Catherine threatened to fire Sara for tampering with evidence. When Grissom went out there to tell Catherine that he told Sara to process the car, she went ballistic and slapped him," Warrick explained.

"Tampering with evidence?" I asked. It didn't sound like something Catherine would accuse Sara of, but then again, nothing really surprised me anymore.

"Catherine is just pissed that Sara was accepted into the PhD program and she wasn't," Warrick clarified.

"I didn't think that Catherine was interested in getting her PhD," I replied.

"She isn't, but she also doesn't want Sara to be a contender for her position once sheriff and mayoral elections are over with. Word is that if Billings wins the race for sheriff, he's going to bring in his own people," Archie said.

"That means Ecklie is out?" I asked.

"Ecklie's out, and all the shift managers are up for review," Warrick clarified.

"And Catherine thinks that Sara would beat her out for a position?" I asked.

"Either Sara or Sophia. If Sara is actively pursuing her PhD, she's probably a shoe in for the position," Archie replied. I wondered when I got so out of the loop on office gossip.

"After the little debacle last month . . . when she pulled the gun on the innocent man," Archie started, "I don't think Billings would look too highly upon harassing defense attorneys, considering he used to be one."

"But Catherine didn't know that he wasn't a threat to her mother or Lindsey," I replied.

"That doesn't make it anymore right, does it?" Warrick replied, "We're taught to use force and the threat of force only when there is imminent danger. The guy wasn't even carrying a gun, Nick."

"Surprisingly, Sara's record is squeaky clean compared to Catherine," Archie replied.

"So where are we on the surveillance video?" Sara asked as she walked in. She looked surprisingly calm compared to what I had come to expect.

"You still tampering with evidence?" Warrick joked.

"Cute . . . very cute, Rick," Sara replied sarcastically, "The situation has been expertly diffused by Ecklie. I'm supposed to go do my work, while Ecklie, Catherine, and Grissom battle it out in the conference room."

"Is Ecklie going to provide helmets for himself and Grissom?" Warrick asked.

"I'm glad I wasn't on the receiving end of that one. I'm sure that Grissom will just pretend that nothing ever happened," Sara replied, "Rick, can you do me a huge favor? Can you try to call me in on cases involving light weight handguns?"

"Why?" Warrick asked.

"My thesis is on stipling patterns observed in close range GSWs. I'd like to try to get a study population of 30 close range and 30 distant range. I'm going to Reno next week to look at a few bodies and photos," Sara replied.

"Well, I guess I'll do it for the sake of your education," Warrick teased.

"Congratulations, Sara," I said awkwardly.

"Thanks. I always thought it would be you that would go back for your PhD . . . considering you have the penchant for all the new technology," Sara commented. I wondered why pursuing further education never crossed my mind.

"I guess I never even thought it was an option," I replied.

"You should think about it, Nick. You wouldn't believe some of the machines that MIT sends to UNLV. There's this state of the art crime scene animation computer program that we just got. It's pretty amazing. It's so much better than acting out a crime scene for a jury. I took Detective Vartan to the UNLV lab to check it out," Sara replied.

"Sounds cool," I lamely replied. I wondered when they all began to change so much. I wondered when Catherine seriously began to believe that she needed to compete against Sara. Warrick and I had always competed, but it was all in the spirit of good natured fun. Catherine appeared to be out for blood.

I went back to the layout room. It had to be the quietest room in the entire lab. I enjoyed the silence. It momentarily made me think that everything was at peace, but the reality was that this lab was as far away from peace as possible. I kept to myself as much as possible. I didn't want to be a part of the vindictive spirit of the lab. I wanted to do my job and get the hell out of there.

"Nick, how's the contents of the vic's gym bag coming along?" Grissom said as he walked into the layout room. The right side of his face was still an angry red. It looked as if it might bruise. He pretended that things weren't unraveling; he pretended that things were perfect. Grissom had always reminded me of my father.


	3. Tired

"My God, Sara," Greg said breathlessly as Sara walked out of the locker room in a tight, strapless red dress that barely grazed the top of her knees. I had to admit that I was a little taken aback by her provocative attire. I couldn't ever remember Sara Sidle ever wearing anything that feminine and sexy.

"Greg, can you help me put my necklace on? I can't get the clasp to open," Sara asked as she approached the bench where Greg was actively sorting through the contents of a vacuum cleaner bag.

Sara gathered up all her loose waves as Greg fastened the gold necklace around her neck. She turned and smiled. Greg motioned for her to wipe her front teeth off; there was a little lipstick on them. Sara nervously wiped her teeth off.

"Do I look okay?" Sara asked nervously. She looked so nervous that it made me wonder exactly who the guy was; it made me wonder if he was really worth coming in for a swing shift instead of a nightshift.

"Fabulous, Sar. Vartan is a lucky man," Greg replied as Sara continued to straight ten out her hair.

"Vartan? I thought he was married?" I asked. Sara snapped around surprised; she must not have noticed that I was two work benches over from Greg.

"Was married is the operative phrase. He's been divorced for about two years," Sara replied.

"Good for you, Sara," I replied. It was good to see her finally getting her life together. I knew that she hadn't dated much since Hank; I knew she dated even less after Grissom. I couldn't remember the last time that Sara looked so put together.

"He's a nice guy," Sara replied as a blush creeped into her cheeks.

"I know I'm a nice guy. Let's hit the road, gorgeous," Vartan said as he walked into the room and took Sara by the arm.

"Make sure to have her home at a reasonable time," Greg said before they left the room. He might have actually meant it. I knew he was fiercely protective of Sara. He always had been. Sara returned his concern with an embarrassed gaze.

"I promise I won't do anything you wouldn't do, Sanders," Vartan replied as they left the room. Greg shook his head; obviously, there wasn't much that Greg wouldn't do.

We went back to work in silence. I was working on finding fibers on a bed sheet. Greg was picking through a vacuum cleaner bag that might hold the only evidence in his case.

The lab had been remarkably quiet in the last few days. Catherine kept to herself. She began working most of her cases solo. She always had me paired with Warrick. The pairing was becoming a little uncomfortable because I began to realize that somewhere along the way I lost track of who Warrick was. Our conversations were terse at best. His life was headed in the direction of Mia; my life seemed to be headed in the direction of peacekeeper.

I watched Warrick and Mia talk several times. The body language screamed that this was more than another one of his girlfriends. It was the first time that I ever remember Warrick being serious about anyone. I wondered why it seemed to be so easy for him and Sara; they found companionship right under their noses.

"Why was Sara doing dressed up like a slut?" Catherine whispered as she walked up to my work bench. I guessed that she probably didn't want Greg to hear her spin on Sara's relationship with Vartan.

"She was going out on a date," I replied calmly. I was mentally willing her to get as far away from me as possible. I wasn't about to get involved in the war that was brewing below the surface.

"She looked more liked a low-class tramp," Catherine said a little bit louder.

"I'm not deaf," Greg replied. His words were so sharp that I'm sure he had a lot more to say. I'm sure it was something nasty about Catherine's past as a stripper.

"I never said you were," Catherine snipped back.

"What's going on now?" Grissom asked. His voice was tired; his voice was reminiscent of when my father would walk in on my mother and one of my sisters arguing. They argued about so much. The worst arguments were when my oldest sister, Veronica, was converting to Judaism for her fiancé, Brecken. My mother said all sorts of rotten things about her going to hell for turning her back on the Protestant religion. My father quickly got sick of the arguing; his voice sounded tired just like Grissom's did.

"Catherine has a lot to say about Sara's attire," Greg said innocently. He pretended as though he was still innocent. Nothing could be further from the truth lately.

"I don't appreciate Sara walking through the lab looking like a tramp," Catherine snipped at Grissom.

"She looked beautiful, Catherine. It isn't my place to tell her how to dress," Grissom replied in the same tired voice.

"You see everything she does through rose colored glasses, Gil," Catherine replied.

"She came in to work early, so she could have the evening off. I approved it. When Sara is off the clock, she can dress any way that she wants to," Grissom replied rather calmly.

"Don't look at me like that," Catherine replied. Her voice was elevating in pitch and octave.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"Don't look at me like I'm some kind of whore," Catherine yelled at him.

"I didn't . . . nevermind. Think what you want, Catherine. Greg, tell me about what you found," Grissom said as he turned away from the red-head, who obviously was not done with her tirade.

"I will not nevermind," Catherine replied.

"Kids, could you try to get along," Ecklie said as he walked into lab, "Who worked the Wentworth case last week? There's been a homicide in Henderson that I guess looks the same as that scene."

"I worked it with Vartan," Catherine said as an evil grin spread across her face.

"You're on it," Ecklie said as he slammed a folder on the counter by the door, "You will not call Vartan in, Catherine. Sara busted her ass this afternoon to get the evening off to go to the policemen's ball with Vartan. She also did you a huge favor by inventorying the swing shift's kits and vests."

"That little bitch," Catherine swore under her breath, "I can't believe she has Ecklie eating right out of her hand."

Catherine neglected to remember that just a few months ago she was doing everything possible to manipulate Ecklie. If I remembered correctly, Catherine would have done just about anything to prove that she was a better manager than Grissom. That included playing politics with Ecklie to the hilt.

I went back to silently ignoring the rest of the world. I was thankful that my vacation time was coming up. I was hoping to come back refreshed. I was hoping to come back to the peaceful lab of days long gone.


	4. Adjusting

My vacation never came. Well, if you consider being trapped in a makeshift coffin for what seemed like an eternity a vacation, I had more than enough vacation. I was forced to lay silently in a tiny box that creeked under the pressure of the earth above it. I was forced to be silent with my thoughts racing through my head.

Most of my time was spent wondering if my coworkers even knew that I was gone . . . missing . . . abducted . . . whatever you want to call it. I knew that there was a really good chance that none of them noticed because they were too tied up in their little pissing matches. Part of me severely doubted their ability to work as a team to find me. Realistically, they were nothing like they were when we were all nightshift workers. They were petty and confrontational. I could picture Sara and Catherine arguing over who was qualified to do what. It made me shiver against the hard wood.

I held on to the hope that maybe Grissom was able to pull everyone together as my breathing labored. I knew that I was rapidly consuming all the oxygen that I was given to work with. As my eyes closed, I remembered what my coworkers used to be like. It was comforting, since my biological family was nothing more than a group of people that occasionally got together to argue about something over the holidays.

I remember waking in a hospital bed that was so small that it was reminiscent of the coffin I was held hostage in. It drove me into a panic attack. I watched the screen of the heart monitor. My heart was racing, and my blood pressure was sky-rocketing. My heart seemed to be in working order, but my lungs didn't want to inflate. I remember gasping for air as my mother tried to comfort me.

My parents stayed with me for a few days. My mother occasionally made snarky comments about the dirty laundry that littered my bedroom floor. She immediately apologized, but the damage was already done. My mother couldn't put aside her need for control even when her youngest son was still adjusting to the fact that he had been clinically dead for more than a few minutes.

My father sat in a chair and watched a baseball game with me. My father was emotionally so far removed from his children. He was sick of all the fights, just as I was sick of all the fights at work. We sat in a comfortable silence. Before my parents left, my father said that he was glad that I was alive. He asked me to call my mother more often. Obviously, I had managed to cause conflict at home when I wasn't even at home.

I spent two days scared shitless at the prospect of leaving my house. I did everything in my power to stay safe; I began to develop a serious obsessive-compulsive disorder. I checked door locks and the alarm system a million times a day. I made sure that my attic door was still nailed shut. I had convinced myself that I was indeed crazy.

"Hey, I knew the Astros were playing at noon . . . We thought we'd stop by with some lunch," Sara said nervously as she stood on my doorstep. Greg was right behind her. Warrick was probably getting ready to go to work; someone would need to make up for the productivity lost due to my absence.

"You hate baseball," I commented. I didn't budge from my doorway. I was still angry at them for always fighting. I was angry at them for being on nightshift when I wasn't. I was angry at them for a million things that I didn't understand or know yet.

"Just because I'm a bad first baseman at the yearly picnic, doesn't mean that I hate baseball," Sara retorted. She looked hurt that I was trying to turn her away.

My parents told me bits and pieces about how the CSIs investigated my disappearance. I knew that Grissom had minor burns from some explosion that happened when he went to deliver the ransom. My father told me that Catherine and Sara refused to sleep. They didn't comment about if everyone managed to come together, so I assumed that it was probably one big argument.

"Well, here's some lunch. I guess we'll see you around," Sara said as she handed me a bag of something. I could see the tears in here eyes as Greg put a hand on her arm to comfort her. Sara and Catherine used to be the ones that would comfort me.

Sara occasionally snuck up on the roof when she was feeling overwhelmed by cases. I saw her up there one evening when I was returning to the lab after processing a scene. It was just days after Sara returned to work after her near DUI, so I assumed that she was probably talking herself into jumping. I ran up the stairs in the most dramatic of fashions only to scare her to near death. She told me that she needed some air; apparently, her case was a bit of a brain teaser. Sara made me tell her about my case. It was a child abuse case. It brought all the emotions from my childhood back to the surface. I remember getting choked up when I told her about the bruising around the little girl's groin. Sara told me that I was good at my job; she said that I always managed to find justice for the victims. She rested her hand on my arm while we sat in silence.

"Wait. I'm sorry . . . I don't know what I'm thinking," I said as they began to walk away.

"If you need your space . . ." Greg began. His voice began to trail off.

"I'm just mad . . . at everything right now," I replied as I let them into my house.

"You should open up the curtains. It might make you feel a little less caged in," Sara suggested as she walked into the house. The curtains were closed, but all the lights were on. I wasn't even sure what my rationale was.

I latched all four of my door locks as Sara began to open curtains and turn off lamps. She turned the fan on my air conditioner on; I could feel the air begin to circulate in the house. I hadn't noticed how the dank air in the house reminded me of the coffin. I shuddered at the thought.

I began to see a little more of the 'old' Sara. She teased me mercilessly about the double-double animal style burger that she was forced to order. Greg said that Sara stared at the menu for well over ten minutes before she ordered the French fries that constituted her lunch. We laughed about stupid things like we used to, while watching a baseball game that was so bad that it wasn't worth watching.

"I've got to get going. I should shower before I clock in," Sara said with a yawn. I looked at her confused because it wasn't even three in the afternoon yet.

"I'm pulling a few doubles to help out Warrick. Don't worry . . . I'll make sure to close out all your cases before you get back," Sara said with a weary smile. I figured that she probably hadn't gone to sleep after the double that she just got done with.

"My leave of absence is for six weeks," I replied. Sara's face went from tanned to a shade of white that I had never seen before. Apparently, Sara was taking on all my shifts. It was the logical choice considering day shift would never dream of working anything other than day shift.

"Well, just worry about feeling better," Sara replied. She was trying desperately to smile as she rested a hand on my arm before walking out the door. Greg followed close behind her; he locked each and every one of the locks.

"She's seriously taking all my shifts?" I asked as Greg returned to where he had been sitting on the couch.

"Well, with Grissom on leave because of the burns and Sophia's on bedrest for the rest of her pregnancy, Sara has had to manage nights and help out on swing. Nobody else volunteered. I mean, I volunteered to help out, but Catherine won't let me," Greg rambled.

"Why won't she let you?" I interrogated. Obviously, they hadn't managed to come together as a team.

"Because I'm taking most of the new cases on nights. I've been working fourteen hour days for the last week," Greg replied. This left me confused. I didn't know if they were working in harmony or just working in parallel.

"I'll be back soon," I replied.

"Just take your time. The lab is still going to be there when you are ready to come back," Greg replied with a smile.

I became curious. I wondered if 'my family' had begun to mend itself.


	5. Mending

"I'd bring her soup, but I'd be afraid that she would drown in the bowl," Vartan said as we watched a very exhausted Sara sleep on a pile of paperwork.

"How much has she been working?" I asked as we stood in the doorway.

"I haven't seen her in the last seventy-two hours. It's possible that she hasn't left work yet," Vartan replied.

"She hasn't been doing this for the last three weeks, has she?" I asked as Greg snuck passed us in search of coffee. He looked equally tired.

"They kind of remind me of the zombies from the old horror movies," Vartan said with a smile, "They've been a little swamped. Sanders, you have the fiber evidence from the DB found on the Strip?"

"I, personally, have twenty open cases. You'll have to be a little more specific," Greg snapped.

"Fat, Hawaiian shirt, no apparent trauma, orange hair," Vartan rambled.

"I do, but Sara needs to sign-off on my analysis. I think she's sleeping on it right now," Greg said.

"Oh, when's Grissom back?" Vartan asked.

"Providing the skin graft took and all is well, he comes back tomorrow," Greg replied. I had absolutely no idea what Greg was talking about. Warrick, Sara, and Greg had all stopped by to 'check' on me, but we never talked about work. We spent hours talking about the most benign and meaningless things. I would have liked to know how Grissom was doing, but maybe it would have brought back the memories my friends were trying to avoid rehashing.

"When are you and Sara going to get some sleep?" Vartan asked.

"Whenever the murders stop," Greg said sarcastically.

"The brain trust has been a little over-extended," Vartan said to me as he tried to fish the fiber analysis out from underneath Sara. He ended up picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder while he used his other hand to shift through the pile. Surprisingly, Sara barely roused. She woke only enough to ask to be put down. Her protests were quiet. I don't think her eyes even opened.

"Sara's going to be pissed if she wakes up," I warned Vartan. I glanced over to see that Greg had rapidly fallen asleep at the table. I was glad that Catherine was allowing me to start working very part time as long as I was confined to the lab.

"She won't wake up. She fell asleep at the shooting range last week. I had fired off the entire clip in my glock before I noticed that she was napping on a bench. Poor girl hadn't even managed to get her ear protection on," Vartan said as he continued to balance Sara on his shoulder and manage to sift through the paperwork. "Found it. God, I hope that's Sara's signature. Does that look like her signature?"

I watched Vartan lay Sara down on the couch. I sat down where Sara had been seated and began trying to orient myself to what was happening in her pile of paperwork. There were a good twenty case files that need signatures and reports from various departments within the lab. Vartan had been very kind when he described it as only being over-extended; the night shift was more or less drowning.

"They'll be glad to have you back here," Vartan commented as he tried to make sense of Sara's handwriting.

"I promise you I'll have her back to you soon," I replied.

"Oh, we're just good friends. We gave it a try, but I had to stop working cases with Sara . . . we never saw each other," Vartan replied. I was thankful that he was at least direct with Sara; it probably would have killed me to watch her being led on again. "Departmental rules."

"She needs to get out more," I commented. I knew that I had made this comment several times before.

"She needs to get about a week's worth of sleep before she gets out," Vartan commented, "Does that look like oval or opal? Either way . . . it doesn't really make sense."

"Maybe she was writing in a foreign language," I joked as I tried to read the paper that Vartan handed to me. Sara's normally precise handwriting had been degraded to something akin to a kindergartener's scrawling.

"It says trilobal fiber," Catherine said as she walked up behind me, "It's not that bad. Did someone forget to tell me about the slumber party?"

I paused for a moment to decide whether or not Catherine was kidding. The tone of her voice confused me because her sarcasm used to be all in good fun, but it had become spiteful. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I had a hard time pretending that everything had magically gotten better.

"I need all the evidence from the Evans murders. We brought the husband in today. He signed a full confession, but you never know with these cases," Vartan said.

"It was a murder-suicide, but the husband decided not to commit suicide at the last minute. I'm willing to bet he has hesitation marks on his wrists," Catherine replied, "That's the family in Henderson. Four kids and his wife. Gruesome scene, Nicky."

"So what's on my agenda today?" I asked.

"Help Sara figure out what's coming and what's going. Her pile is a little worse than mine. Tell Greg to take all the incoming cases. Warrick is taking the incoming cases for swing into night shift. I'm going to start working on getting all my evidence signed, sealed, and out to the DA's office," Catherine replied, "It's good to have you back, Nicky."

Catherine got up and left the room. She looked peaceful. Catherine was rarely peaceful; there was always some kind of turmoil in her life. She never needed to seek out drama. Drama always managed to find her.

"Vartan, what happened after everyone found out that I was . . . you know?" I asked. The question visibly caught Vartan off guard. His mouth opened a few times before he managed to find the words that he was looking for.

"Grissom took charge, but Sara was the real shining star. She was the one that ended up taking charge. Greg, Warrick, and Catherine let her run the show without too much protest. You're lucky that Sara has a clear head," Vartan replied.

"How lucky?" I asked.

"Extraordinarily lucky. Your abductor was smart . . . Grissom said that he might even be smarter than all the CSIs," Vartan replied.

"I just wanted to know," I said.

"I don't claim to understand," Vartan said, "Make sure that Sara and Greg eat something. They both look a little thin."

Even the most far removed people seemed effected by my circumstances. I chose to call them circumstances because it downplayed the fact that I was indeed clinically dead for five to ten minutes depending on who you ask. I had spent the last two weeks trying to ask my friends what happened. I wanted to know what happened to Walter, but I was too terrified to turn on the news. I knew the sight of that man would probably throw me into a rage that I wasn't sure I could control. I also knew that I couldn't live like this forever.

"What the hell?" Sara said as she sat up on the couch. She looked confused. She looked around the breakroom as if she was still trying to figure out where she was.

"You fell asleep," I replied as I set down the case file I was looking over.

"Why are you here? You should be at home resting," Sara replied.

"Ditto. You look like you could use the rest a little more than me," I replied as I watched Sara struggle to a standing position. It was a lot like watching Bambi trying to stand for the first time. She swayed and stumbled her way to her chair and her pile of case files.

"I'm doing okay," Sara replied. She looked like she might have actually believed that she was doing fine.

"Liar. Vartan tells me that you and Greg don't sleep anymore," I replied as Sara began to root around in the pile. I watched her squint to focus her eyes on the file tabs.

"It's been a little hectic around here," Sara said very diplomatically. She knew her answer didn't really answer my question.

"I want to know what happened to Grissom. I hear people talking about his arm and skin grafts. Why didn't anyone tell me?" I asked. I barely recognized the anger in my voice. I could tell that Sara didn't recognize it either.

"Nick, Grissom didn't want us to tell you. He said that it wasn't important right now. Grissom wants you to rest and being to put everything that was broken back together. You know he's the stoic one," Sara replied.

"What happened, Sara? Why can't anyone give me a straight answer about what happened?" I replied.

"Your father wanted to do the ransom drop, but Grissom insisted that they didn't get anywhere near Walter. Grissom was afraid something would happen to them, so he met with Walter alone. I don't know all the details, but I do know that Walter detonated a pipe bomb concealed under his clothes," Sara recited, "Walter died. Grissom burnt his arms trying to save Walter. Without Walter, we had next to nothing to go on."

"Is Grissom okay?" I asked.

"He doesn't return our phone calls. He doesn't want us to worry. Grissom is supposed to come back to work tomorrow," Sara replied as she tried to smile. I could see the tears in her eyes. She became acutely self-conscious of the tears and turned away.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," I replied.

"I'm sorry Walter hurt you," Sara replied, "I need to get some air."

I watched her walk away. I knew just how much Walter hurt me, but I could barely fathom how much Walter managed to hurt my friends. The look in Sara's eyes told me that at one point, they truly believed that their best was not good enough. I choked on the sobs that threatened to come out. I didn't want to wake Greg.

I waited for five or ten minutes before ascending to the roof. Sara sat near the railing with her knees pushed into her chest. I could hear her sobbing before I even opened the door. I don't even think she heard me approach her.

"I'm okay, Sara. Look at me. I'm okay," I said as I sat next to her.

"I know, but I brain can't shake some of the images from . . . ," Sara said through her tears. I didn't know exactly what they saw. My mother said something about a closed circuit camera, but at that point, I wasn't ready to hear exactly what happened to me.

"I know. My mother told me you helped dig me out. My doctors keep telling me stories about how I was legally dead. I guess I'm lucky that I don't remember too much. Between the hypoxia and terror, I can't really distinguish what was a hallucination and what was real," I replied.

"You're lucky, Nick. You don't want to know everything that happened that day," Sara replied in a voice that nearly chilled me to the core.

"The last thing I thought about was you guys. I remembered thinking about that diner where Grissom always took us for breakfast. I wondered why we never asked Greg to come along with us," I replied.

"Things were so different then. They were so much simpler," Sara replied. She shivered despite the dry heat of the desert. I knew she was holding so much back. I wondered exactly what happened that was so gruesome that she couldn't tell me. I wondered if I would even want to know.

"You want to go out for breakfast in . . . I don't know . . . . eight hours?" I asked. Sara laughed.

"Sure. I should probably finish up my pile of paperwork," Sara said as she stood up.

"Catherine said that I should help," I replied.

"Sounds good," Sara said with a smile that tried, unsuccessfully, to cover up what she was willing herself not to feel.

"So what's this with you and Vartan?" I asked innocently.

"Every time we had the chance to spend some time together, I fell asleep. I wasn't a really good date. I guess it's just not in the cards," Sara joked as I opened the door for her.

"Some people find narcolepsy to be a turn on," I teased.

"Don't be like Greg," Sara replied.

"I was just saying . . . "

"Nick, no. At no time in the future will you be writing a dating profile for me."

The lab felt more like home than any other place on earth.


	6. Graduating

A/N: That was a really good finale, but (again) the ending kind of left me feeling empty. It was like someone wrote an excellent script, but just fizzled out at the ending. I hate that I felt so much up until the end - then I felt nothing. It isn't like Tarantino to have a script wrap up so nicely (maybe that's why I felt a little cheated - I didn't want Nick to die(glad he didn't), but I wanted to see something more out of Sara and Greg. I wanted to see Sara go to pieces like Warrick did. I wanted to see Catherine comfort someone other than Warrick). But they did make it clear how divided the swing and night shift is. What's up with Hodges (they wrote him as extremely weird . . . the Duke's of Hazzard Game?)? Sorry for the long rant.

* * *

"How can you guys sit there and play that game for hours on end?" Sara asked as Warrick and I sat engrossed in out Madden 2005 Football game. 

"If you would just tell Nick that the Cowboys don't have a chance in hell against my Steelers, then the game would be over. Logic, baby, logic," Warrick replied. Truth be told, my Cowboys were kicking his ass by more than a little bit.

"Rick, Sara and I are going to go make out for a little bit. We already told Greg that he could watch," Mia said as she kissed Warrick's neck. Her ploy for more attention didn't do anything to sway Warrick's focus.

"I thought you guys were making supper in the kitchen. That little kiss ass, Sanders," Warrick teased.

"What? Two beautiful ladies asked me for help . . . did you really think I could say no?" Greg replied. All I could do is laugh.

"Sanders, you never ever make a move on a brother's lady," Warrick teased.

Our friendships weren't what they were years ago. They had become something better. Things were still strained in the lab. Catherine was learning to balance politics and management. Grissom was learning to be a little less of a push over. There was still tension between Warrick, Greg, and Sara and Catherine, but they managed to keep it professional.

As a teenager, my best friend's parents stayed together for the sake of their children. The lab had pulled together in much the same way. I could never picture Catherine and Sara being friends, but I at least didn't have to worry about constant fighting. If only my biological family could get it together as my 'real' family had.

"If we don't eat soon, I'm going to be late for my own graduation," Sara replied. I could hear her disappear back into Warrick's kitchen.

"Dr. Sidle . . . exactly how many abbreviations do have after your last name?" I teased.

"She's a bachelor of science, master of science, and doctor of philosophy. BS, MS, PhD . . . think she can collect anymore?" Greg replied.

"You should be proud of her," Mia replied as she jokingly punched Greg's arm.

"I didn't say I wasn't," Greg replied as he pretended to be hurt.

"That's my girl," Warrick said. I wasn't sure if he was talking to the video game or to Mia.

We ate supper as Sara nervously flipped through her notecards. Being as studious as Sara Sidle always was, she was asked to speak on behalf of a rather small doctorate class. I think she said there were a whole ten of them across the fifteen different science and liberal arts departments. She barely touched her food. When she did, Sara looked as if she might throw up.

"I swear to God . . . I'm having a panic attack," Sara said as she bent over so her head could be tucked between her knees. I tried my hardest to give her attention while still paying attention to my driving.

"It's okay . . . it's okay. You'll get up there and do a great job," I said I rubbed circles on her back.

"She has this phobia about speaking in public places," Greg replied from the back seat, "Sar, remember to picture the beaches and the white sand."

"I don't want to picture it," Sara replied.

"What the hell?" I asked.

"She's supposed to focus on her 'happy place' to relieve the anxiety. We did this exercise before the academy meeting in Washington DC last year. Deep breaths," Greg said softly.

"Her happy spot is a beach? Just picture yourself in Greg's bed, Sara," I teased. Instead of the laugh that I was hoping for . . . maybe even expecting, I heard her inhale sharply.

"I don't think you found her happy spot," Greg snapped, "Come on, Sar. It's really going to be okay. No one listens to those speeches. I can't remember anything from my high school or college graduation."

"I gave a speech at my high school graduation. What do you mean nobody listens to those?" Sara asked as she shot up from her tucked over position, "Nick?"

"Whoa, that was a long time ago," I replied, "Something about enterprising or upsizing or downsizing."

The graduation went off without a hitch. Grissom joined us in the claustrophobic auditorium. Between us and the parents of the students receiving their masters degrees; there was barely any breathing room. The seats were so close together that I was nearly on Greg's lap.

Sara's speech went flawlessly. Upon announcement of her name, she had five extremely loud coworkers standing up and cheering for her. She looked in our direction and smiled.

"For your graduation, Dr. Sidle," I said as I handed her a brown paper bag.

"Champagne and caffeine pills . . . condoms too?" Sara asked with an arched eyebrow after digging through the bag.

"For your narcolepsy," I replied. I was surprised that she kissed my cheek. I was surprised that Greg, Warrick, Mia, and Grissom hadn't noticed.

"For your ego," Sara said with a smile, "Eight on Wednesday night. I'll be waiting. Oh, I like Shasta daisies."

With that, she walked over to where everyone else was standing. All I could do was shake my head in disbelief. That was the Sara Sidle that I remembered.

We took pictures that are now framed and sitting on my nightstand. Catherine even came out to the crappy diner for breakfast at three in the morning. It was like being transported back in time. For a moment, I remembered the hallucinations I had in the coffin. I remembered thinking about everyone being together. I was nearly overcome by the emotion.

Now, I just need to figure out what the hell Shasta daisies are.

FIN


End file.
